


let down your guard

by AmyDancepantsPeralta



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amy is Press Secretary, F/M, Inspired by The West Wing, Jake is her bodyguard, Not a Crossover, Protective!Jake ensues, b99 au, back on my AU wagon because they're FUN, but Jake & Amy, canon divergence but peraltiago in the long run, nothing political guys this is just fanfic, think CJ & Simon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyDancepantsPeralta/pseuds/AmyDancepantsPeralta
Summary: "Look.  I can already tell what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking this is going to be all longing glances and secret earpiece conversations … me carrying you in my arms as I race you away from the danger, you running out of planes at tarmacs to give me one last kiss goodbye … you know, all the standard bodyguard stuff.”Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, Amy feels a knot of tension leave her shoulders.  “Yes.  You’re right.  That’s exactly what I was thinking.”“Knew it, nailed it."(A West Wing-inspired AU where Amy is assigned a new guard, one Special Agent Peralta, and she isnot happy about it.)
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 98
Kudos: 164





	1. there's so much that you just don't see

**Author's Note:**

> Okayyy so for all you AU fans out there (you guys _are_ still out there, right?) here comes my latest offering - inspired by the CJ/Simon arc on The West Wing that had potential to be sooo much more. It's set in The White House, but I'm not going to go political here ... please just enjoy the story for what it is 🙂🙃🙂

**chapter one: there’s so much that you just don’t see**

There are a collection of nuclei in the temporal lobe of the brain known as the amygdala, that are best known for their role in sparking the _fight or flight_ reaction in most people when met with emotions like fear.Amy had read about it once, in a medical journal that she’d found at Rosa’s house (it’s presence on her coffee table, to this day, remains unexplained).According to the article; once the amygdala sparks, your brain’s ability to retain memory increases, and in hindsight can make a patch of time feel as though it has stretched on forever.

As she stands in the world’s slowest elevator at Medstar Washington Hospital this evening, with her heart smashing against her ribcage and her toes tapping against the faded linoleum floor; Amy is certain that her amygdala has kicked into overdrive. 

Panicking, her frantic mind keeps bouncing around between the urges to _run like hell_ and _stay until the bitter end_ , and it definitely isn’t like Amy because she’s never run away from a fight, but maybe there’s a part of her that already knows that what could happen next has the potential to change everything.

Her eyes remain glued to the squares inset along the top of the car, their white laminate long since turned a faded yellow; the number eleven scratched out almost to the point of non-existence.She counts, a slow progression in her head that tries it’s very best at blocking out the thoughts racing around - the thoughts that keep telling her that _she might have just lost the greatest thing to happen to her before it could ever really happen_ \- and she can’t bear to look at her watch right now, but she’s positive that three minutes pass before the dim light behind the number four decides to amble it’s way towards five. 

“Shots were fired in a store on 14th Street,” was the message she’d received, a mere half an hour ago (also, approximately the time she’d gotten on this _damn elevator_ ).Boyle’s pale face, and a choked out number.“Room 9554.”The rest is muddled - she knows she started running; remembers hearing Terry call out to her departing figure, and she’s pretty sure her purse is somewhere back at the theatre lobby - but there was a force stronger than anything she can label that was pulling her to the hospital, and in that moment Amy had absolutely no intention of stopping. 

The squares for six and seven remains mute yet eight comes to life, and the knots in her stomach begin to clench even tighter.There’s a mantra that’s been playing in the back of her mind - from the very moment she’d stepped into the lobby and saw Charles make a beeline in her direction - and it takes over any other rational thought as _finally_ level nine lights up, and the doors to her metallic prison slide open. _Please let him be okay.Please let him be okay._

_I don’t know what I’ll do, if Jake is not okay._

The sterility of the ward burns her nostrils and the clack of her heels sound vaguely like the rattling snare drums at the last inauguration, interrupting the otherwise calm environment of the floor as the numbered plaques beside each room begin to blur.She dodges past nurses, doctors, and patients alike; and she can tell that they recognise her face (which means there’s a very good chance that this will be in the paper tomorrow), but it doesn’t matter that they know her, it doesn’t matter if the press find out about this _-_ _nothing_ _else_ _matters_ _if he is not okay -_ and then finally, FINALLY, the numbers 9544 are before her. 

Her fingers feel limp, but somehow she manages to grip the doorknob and turn - pushing her weight against the wood as though somehow _it_ is the reason she hasn’t been able to get here earlier - and then suddenly the only sound Amy hears is the frenzied heaving of her own breath.

The room is empty, save for a bed in the middle - stripped clean and returned to it’s regular scrutiny from the harsh fluorescent buzzing above.A clipboard cleared of any history hangs lax from its base, and on the very edge of the mattress sits a leather jacket; the same jacket that had once hung on the back of her apartment door … and the same jacket that Amy’s fingers had gripped the edge of a mere three hours before. 

She feels her stomach drop to her feet, glued to position as her mind moves into overdrive, eyes trained solely on the scene before her as the realisation hits. 

Jake was not okay.And nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

_Five months earlier …_

“On to other news.We can confirm that there has been a surge in counterfeit notes across the nation, with several states reporting projections of significant economic loss.”

Amy pauses as the small crowd in front of her transform into a cacophony of sound, pen-clenched fingers and miniature recorders thrusting towards the ceiling in desperate attempts to get her attention and break their version of the story.Blinking, she gives them her best _I’m not done yet_ look, and after a few beats the reporters in front of her fall silent.

“President Holt has already been in discussion with the Secret Service, and are confident that the lead they are running on will come to fruition.”

From the back, Matthews from The Sun raises his hand, and Amy gives a quick nod.“You said there were several states reporting loss.Do we have an estimation?”

“Presently, the calculations are upwards of 3 million dollars, _which_ \- ” she emphasises, as the sea of hands raise once again, “is why there are teams working around the clock to stop the fraudulent currency from getting into circulation.In the meantime, The White House has released an image of the forged notes,” nodding to her left, Amy waits for the screen beside her to light up, “and the differences are clearly distinguishable.”

The room falls quiet as the reporters all turn their attention to the image, and Amy watches as they all slowly turn back to her with varying expressions of confusion.Suppressing a sigh, she uses the remote in her hand to zoom in on the imitation of the offical seal, the same one that is on every U.S. dollar bill, and undoubtedly in the pocket or purse of every single person here.Not a day goes by that she doesn’t wish that Latin would finally wake up from its long nap (or it’s _conquiescamus,_ as it were).“Pluribus.There are two Rs.”She waits a beat, and continues in a dry tone.“There should only be one.”

To her right, Ginns from The Examiner clears his throat; glancing up at Amy to ensure he has her attention before flipping open his notebook.The Chicago-born columnist was unashamed in his opinion - as were his loyal followers - and his coverage of Holt’s campaign had leant towards unfavourable.With a tight smile, Amy swallows the urge to scream at whatever was about to come next.“Yeah, so - with regards to the Secret Service.After his inauguration, President Holt elected a new head of the Presidential Detail, a .. ” pausing, Ginns refers to his notes, creasing his brow. “Rosa Dye-az.” 

Pushing her tongue against the back of her teeth, Amy wills herself not to interrupt and correct Ginns’ pronunciation, waiting for some kind of sign of potential redemption.Instead, he leans forward and continues. 

“Apart from what has already been published, her history and previous credentials appear to be incredibly difficult to correlate.Given her obvious reluctance to divulge anything to the American public, and the fact that this role has never been held by a female prior to today, what reassurance can we the people have that Miss Dye-az was the best choice?”

Feeling her back teeth begin to grind together, Amy takes a measured breath before fixing Ginns with a steely gaze.Questions such as these have been a common denominator since Holt was sworn in over a month ago, particularly due to choosing Olivia Crawford as his VP; and while expected, the overwhelmingly misogynistic responses were beginning to wear thin.

“I can assure you, Mr Ginns, that President Holt’s vetting process for all roles was incredibly thorough - and Ms _Dee-_ az,”she pauses, raising a singular brow, “remained incredibly co-operative throughout.We cannot bow to the curiosities of the general public on every request for detail, or we’d never stop.After all, the public continues to let you write for one of D.C’s most prolific news journals without knowing the details of _your_ Christmas Card list, and somehow the world continues to spin.”

Ginns’ responding eye roll is poorly concealed, and Amy’s fingernails begin to dig into the edge of her podium.“Furthermore, I would suggest that _despite_ Ms Diaz having a uterus, the bar set by her predecessors will continue to ascend.One could even argue that the lack of … _other_ certain parts of the human anatomy will only assist in keeping a clear head in the most intense of situations.”

The reporter shifts uncomfortably in his seat, blessedly silent in his rebuttal, and Amy directs the end of her statement towards the rest of the crowd.“President Holt and his administration are aware that a small percentage of the public lack confidence in the roles he has filled.Criticism is necessary, and welcome.But unmerited accusations regarding a person’s ability based entirely on their sex is where he draws the line.”Slamming the file in front of her closed, Amy takes a step back before leaning closer to the microphone, delivering her final line.“That concludes the presidential briefing for today.Thank you.”

Terry hovers by the doorway as Amy exits, his leather yoked suspenders proudly displaying the commemorative pin gifted to him upon being sworn in as the president’s Chief of Staff, and he cocks his head towards her as they move swiftly down the corridor towards Amy’s office.“Interesting briefing you held there, Santiago.”

“You mis-pronounced psychotic, Ter-bear,” interjects Gina as she passes them both, head already bowed down to her cellphone before either can respond. 

Already feeling defensive, Amy shakes her head quickly, raising one hand to gesture at the room she’d just departed.“We’ve been fielding commentary like that since the early days of the campaign, Terry.At some point, we just need to point out the baselessness of their remarks, and remind them that there simply isn’t a place for it in modern society.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Terry shrugs.“Don’t get me wrong.Terry hates closed minded attitudes.As do the rest of the cabinet.I just find it fascinating to watch how close our new Press Secretary came to literally biting a reporter’s head off.”

“Ugh.I’m fairly certain it would just pop like a balloon.Full of hot air and not much else.”

Nodding, Terry points in the direction of Amy’s office.“You might be onto something there.Heads up, though - I saw Diaz making a beeline to your office just as you were wrapping things up.”He pauses, shoving his hands into his pockets while giving her the side-eye.“Terry wishes you luck.”

Smiling at an intern as they hand her an updated schedule, Amy casts a quick glance down the hallway and grimaces.“Well, at least she hasn’t gone straight to grinding her axe.”

“I didn’t see both hands, but let’s assume you’re right.”

Throwing Terry an exasperated glance, Amy bids him farewell before moving towards her office, deliberately taking on a confident stride as she squares her shoulders in preparation for confrontation. 

With her jet black curly hair and the _zero fucks_ aura surrounding her, most members of the team had learned on their own that Special Agent Rosa Diaz was not somebody to be trifled with.Not meeting until the last couple of months of Holt’s campaign, Amy had spent the first few weeks largely being ignored by Diaz - until one afternoon, when a particularly vocal protester tried to pull Amy in for a debate, only to be met by Rosa’s steely glare and the unspoken promise of worse to come.She’d muttered, on their way back to the car, that they needed to have each other backs; and over time their working relationship had grown into a something closer to friendship. 

(A friend that occasionally intimidates you with their intensity, but a friend all the same.)

With her trademark leather jacket covering her like a second skin Rosa is easy to point out in the busy walkway, but it’s the two men standing with her that captures Amy’s attention as she draws near.One was tall with a distinctive profile; the other slightly shorter, and sporting a hairstyle that looked like it could survive a hurricane.Although the taller one wore shades, Amy could tell that both of them were casing their environment, taking in their surroundings with a stern exterior that gave away exactly who they were. 

These men were Secret Service, and for some reason they were standing outside her office door.

Her curiosity overshadowing the possibility that she may need to eat a slice of humble pie, Amy thrusts the hand still holding the schedule towards the two men as she passes Rosa, giving them her best Suspicious Face.

“Who are those guys?”

“Good morning to you too, Santiago.”Rosa’s dark eyes follow Amy’s path around to her desk, tilting her chin upwards after a beat.“My uterus thanks you for it’s shout-out this morning.”

“Ugh, okay.”Returning her planner to it’s designated top-left-corner position, Amy feels her shoulders drop as she throws an apologetic look at the woman in front of her.“I know that wasn’t my best work.But the guy was being a jerk, and I was 100% done with the conversation.”

“No, really.It’s fine.”Rosa’s voice takes on no other inflection to demonstrate her approval, but Amy learned a long time ago not to read into her monotone.“My uterus _is_ a bad-ass.Definitely tries to punch me from the inside out at least once a month.”She smirks, a sight familiar to only a select few, and raises one eyebrow.“Somehow, I still manage to keep the President and all his flunkies alive.It really is shocking.”

Without invitation, the mystery men have followed Amy into her office, hovering along the outskirts of the room while she checks her messages, listening with half an ear as Rosa continues to go into alarming detail on how she’d personally like to deal with reporters like Ginns.It’s as the taller of the two reaches out to investigate an award propped up on her well-stocked shelf that Amy finally looks up, dropping the slips of paper to the desk and throwing Rosa an exasperated look.“Seriously, who are these guys?And why are they in my office?”

“Oh, right.About that.Amy, this is Special Agent Peralta,” Rosa pauses, thrusting her thumb towards the taller guard in shades, “and this guy is Special Agent Boyle.”Clearing her throat, she fixes Amy with her typical Rosa’s Way Or The Highway look.“They’re going to be your new security detail.”

A grinning Agent Peralta throws a tiny wave in Amy’s direction, and she lets out a petulant huff, planting her hands on the empty section of her desk.“Rosa, we’ve talked about this.I’m a visible target.I go out there every other day and announce policies and updates and god knows what else.It’s inevitable that I end up with a few snarky emails every now and then.People need a face to complain to, and this guy’s obviously chosen me.”

“Sorry,” Rosa replies, in a tone that suggests that she’s not sorry at all.“President’s orders.”

_Damn it._ With her next refutation dying in her throat, Amy folds her arms over her chest, studying her friend’s expression carefully.There was a good chance that Rosa was just _saying_ it was presidential orders, knowing that Amy would be unable to resist any directive that came from her superior.But there was equally enough chance that the request _had_ come from higher up, and refusal of the service would most definitely land her in hot water. 

In other words, Rosa had Amy exactly where she wanted her, and there was not a darn thing she could do about it. 

“Just seems like a lot for a bunch of stupid emails,”Amy mutters, dropping down into her seat, defeated.With a furrowed brow, Agent Boyle looks over at Rosa; but before Amy can question it, Rosa perches herself along the edge of the couch. 

“So, Peralta and Boyle will work on opposite shifts and shadow you on your day to day operations.Additional detail has already been arranged for your home address, and all correspondence will now be cleared through us.”

“I’m also going to need the contact information for any recent or previous relationships you may have had, ma’am,” pipes up Peralta from Amy’s left, breaking out into another grin when she looks over at him.“Gotta weed this creep out, and you’d be surprised how often they end up being much closer to home than expected."

Blinking, Amy turns back to Rosa, the extent of her security detail only now sinking in.“A constant shadow _and_ surveillance on my apartment?Seriously, Rosa … this is all coming from Holt?Can’t I just change my email address or something?”

A silence falls quickly over her office, and Amy makes special effort this time to take note of the not-so-secret looks the two agents gave each other.A louder protest is bubbling up through her chest when Rosa stands, her sharply manicured fingers holding a document folder Amy hadn’t noticed until now, and walks towards her. 

The heavy thud of Rosa’s booted footsteps come to a stop at the side of Amy’s desk and she places the file in front of her, leaning in slightly as the folder’s contents become clear.

Photographs. _Stacks_ of photographs, all of Amy, and all from various parts of her very busy week.Her heart begins to climb its way up to the base of her throat as the images begin to blur, one shot after the other of an unaware woman as she lunches with friends, visits the gym, drives to her brother’s house and - _oh god_ \- even gets changed at home near what she’d always considered to be a relatively protective curtain. 

Leaning in, Rosa’s voice drops to a whisper.“The boys haven’t seen those last ones, but they know they exist.”She straightens, returning to her regular volume.“All of these were on a USB that was delivered to us from an unconfirmed address, and arrived early this morning.Peralta and Boyle have been pulled in to oversee the operation, and I will monitor from afar.The detail starts from now, and ends once this Mr Anonymous is behind bars.Is everyone clear?”

Numb, Amy nods without really understanding, the cotton of her tailored blazer feeling inadequate underneath her fingernails as she pulls the two sides closer together.She feels foolish for disregarding the warning signs for so long, confused as to how out of all people, _she_ is the one who’s become a target; terrified because if these photographs are anything to go by, she is being hunted … for god only knows what. 

A knot begins to churn in her stomach, and there’s a very good chance that she’s about to be sick. 

“Excuse me, Ms Diaz?”Ramirez, Terry’s secretary, pops his head around the doorframe, startling Amy out of her spiralling thoughts.“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in the oval office.”

“Alright, I’ve gotta go, the Powers That Be have spoken.”Rosa mumbles, scooping up the photographs on Amy’s desk and holding onto the file with her vice-like grip.Noticing the look on Amy’s face, she stops short of her exit from the room, tipping her head towards the two men as they hover by the bookshelf.“Listen.I’ve put two of my best men on this case.Peralta especially, I’ve known since our days at the academy.They’re not going to rest until we’ve caught the bad guy, and neither will I.Got it?”

Amy gives her friend a tentative smile, taking her message to heart.If there was anybody that could shut this mess down, it was Rosa ‘ _I could kick your ass with my pinky finger_ ’ Diaz. 

With one final glance towards her two agents, Rosa swivels on her heel, leaving Amy’s office in silence.The sound of one of Amy’s favourite tchotchkes hits the floor, dropping out of Peralta’s fidgeting fingers, and he cringes.“Yikes.Sorry about that, it just looked like one that I -”

Jumping out from behind her desk, Amy snatches the item out of the agent’s hands, running the edge of her thumb along it’s familiar curves before carefully returning it to it’s original position.“Please don’t break my belongings, Peralta.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If I may, Ms Santiago … what Special Agent Diaz told you was correct.Peralta and I are here to keep you out of harm’s way, and it’s only going to be a matter of time before we catch him in the act.”Standing to her right, Amy finds herself surprised at the gentleness of Boyle’s tone, and she eyes him curiously before nodding. 

Leaning his weight against one of the lower bookshelves, Peralta slides his sunglasses off, face turning slightly more somber, and Amy blinks in surprise.“You have our word.”His eyes were surprisingly warm, a kind of chocolatey brown that seemed to draw Amy in, and her arms fall away from their defensively crossed position across her chest. 

“Alright.Thank you.This is just … a lot.”Her stomach twists again, and even though this time it feels less like she’s about to be sick, Amy really doesn’t want to take any chances.“If I leave this office, you two are going to follow me, aren’t you?”

“Just around the perimeters of the hallway, Ms Santiago.And only Peralta - I’m going to stick around and see if I can trace where these emails are coming from.” 

“Consider me your shadow, ma’am.”Jake grins, and Amy feels an odd mixture of irritation and anticipation run through her.“And, look.I can already tell what you’re thinking.”Pushing his weight off of the bookshelves, he gestures vaguely with his hands.“You’re thinking this is going to be all longing glances and secret earpiece conversations … me carrying you in my arms as I race you away from the danger, you running out of planes at tarmacs to give me one last kiss goodbye … you know, all the standard bodyguard stuff.”

Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, Amy feels a knot of tension leave her shoulders, but she’s not _quite_ ready to laugh yet.“Yes.You’re right.That’s _exactly_ what I was thinking.”

“Knew it, nailed it.Well I’m sorry to disappoint you ma’am, but this stuff is nothing like the movies.It shouldn’t really be any more than a few weeks, just need to catch this weirdo out and let the law take care of the rest.”He pauses, glancing over at Agent Boyle before continuing.“Which … will be made all the more faster with your co-operation.Including the details of people who may have had closer access to you than others.”

Sighing, Amy presses the tip of her index finger against the middle of her brow, a nervous tick that has long since become habit.This guy _really_ needed to stop calling her ma’am.“Fine.Teddy Wells was my last boyfriend, but we broke up several months ago.I highly doubt that he’s the one you’re looking for.”

“We really need to look into all avenues, Ms. Santiago,”Agent Boyle interjects, and for the first time Amy notices how the beige colour of his tie is almost a perfect match to his skin tone. 

“Fine.”Leaning down, she scribbles Teddy’s phone number onto a new post-it, thrusting it in Agent Peralta’s direction.“See for yourself.Better yet, invite him out for a drink.He’s got some real interesting stories, especially about beer.One could almost say, he’s got ‘the cheers for the beers’, you know?”

(She knows that she’s setting Peralta up for a trap, all too familiar with endless nights listening to Tedford ‘ _Thrills for the Pils_ ’ Wells.But there was much too much bravado seeping out of every pore of this guy, and he deserved to suffer - if only just a little.)

“Huh, a beer guy. Noice.”

Amy stifles her grin, tucking her pen back into the pocket of her blazer as she heads towards the doorway, ignoring the echo of Peralta’s footsteps behind hers.“Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen … I have a hundred or so meetings to attend.”

“Just one last thing, ma’am.”Agent Peralta interjects, and Amy turns in time to watch him drop one shoulder in an obvious attempt at Dramatic Effect. 

The edge of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and the ridiculous sunglasses that have inexplicably returned to his face despite the sunlight pouring in through the surrounding windows (she thinks, perhaps, entirely for the purpose of his next move) slide down his prominent nose.“No matter what happens, you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

The urge to roll her eyes again is almost unbearable, but she is a professional if nothing else, and so Amy puts on her best smile and nods at the suited man in front of her.

“Won’t be a problem.”


	2. I can make a rhyme of confusion in your mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having two relative strangers insert themselves into her daily routine - particularly when _one of them_ continued to make sex tape jokes whenever the term ‘debrief’ was mentioned - had pushed what probably should have been constant fear of being stalked to the side, and Amy had spent a good portion of the first two weeks arguing with Special Agent Peralta about almost everything under the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm very sorry I haven't been able to update this before today! Days were flying past for a little while there. Hopefully the length of this update will make up for it ... thank you for reading! ♥️

**chapter two:I can make a rhyme of confusion in your mind**

Although he’s completely aware that it can sound a little morbid; there have, admittedly, been one or two occasions where Jake Peralta has considered - albeit _briefly_ \- the matter surrounding his eventual death. 

(A side effect, he believes, of working a job where one is required to _literally jump in front of another person’s bullet_.)

Having committed the script for Die Hard to memory not long after his twelfth birthday, the possibilities have admittedly strayed at times towards the hopefully impossible, but ‘sound cool on paper’ scenarios:

A heroic block-jump in front of his charge, screaming _NOOOOO_ at the top of his lungs as his body falls to the ground?Always possible - but his scream needed a bit more defiance in it’s build-up.

A high-speed chase through the streets of the city, ending with a gravity-defying leap of his souped-up vehicle across an undeveloped portion of freeway?Chances were smaller … and he’d really prefer to survive something like that, purely for the bragging rights.

Losing in a shootout on top of a Ferris wheel after chasing his client’s nemesis through an old abandoned carnival?A little bit of a long shot, yes … but it was good to have options. 

But never, even in the _wildest_ of his imaginations, did Jake consider that it would happen in ChurchKey Bar in downtown D.C..Nor, that it would come from sheer boredom, sitting across from a man named Teddy Wells as he droned on about pilsners for the _third. hour. in a row_. ****

“Back in 1307 there were even joint malthouses and - get this! - community. _breweries_.I mean, can you imagine how _wild_ it must have been?Oh to be a villager under Wenceslas, am I right?”

Raising his brow, Jake nods, lifting his glass to take a sip of his drink (a Pilsner, natch) in order to avoid an actual response.

“Of course, depredations of war and a rapidly spreading plague certainly played it’s part ..”Pilsner’s Number One Superfan’s voice fades into the background, and Jake feels his eyes begin to glaze over.

_So this is the end.Death by boredom, sub-division: pilsners._

_Pretty sure this one isn’t going to end up in a blockbuster._

The bottom of Jake’s glass hits the sticky table with an unintentionally loud thump as his forearm meets the surface, and the man across from him pauses his sentence just long enough for Washington’s Greatest Secret Service Agent (if he does say so himself) to find a completely unprompted - yet very necessary - opportunity to change the subject. 

Slipping into the cover he’d concocted earlier today on the phone, Jake shuffles forwards in his seat, gesturing his hand vaguely in Teddy’s direction.“Hey so, we talked earlier about how I met your ex, Amy, in the White House while I was interning there last week.Obviously, _her_ love of beers got us talking about you and led to this … _mega_ fun evening.”He grins, doing his best to ignore how the action seemed to be a natural response to mentioning his current charge’s name.“It’s a shame the two of you didn’t work out, you seem like such a … perfect match.Do you still try to keep in touch at all?”

Teddy’s brow knits, his head shaking as he places two gently fisted hands on the table.“Pilsners.Amy loved pilsners.Especially the ones we brewed together on the weekends.”

“Right, right.Pilsners.” 

“No.I haven’t kept in touch with her.But ..” Teddy pauses, eyes darting around the room, clearly surveying their proximity to others; and Jake leans forward on the table, sensing an easy kill.The man’s voice has lowered an octave or two when he turns back towards Jake, shoulders tense.“ _I think about texting her sometimes._ I even typed out something once.I know, I know!” He counters, raising both hands in innocence.“It’s too much, and they say that’s just part and parcel of having such a bad boy persona.I can’t help it.But there you have it.”Giving off a shrug, he continues.“That, and a couple of photos on the wall at home … but they’re just memories, you know?”

Nodding, Jake makes a mental note to do additional re-con on Teddy’s home (a wall of photos that occasionally contain Amy is one thing … a Wall of Amy Photos is entirely another) and makes an exaggerated show of checking the time.It was becoming increasingly obvious that Teddy wasn’t stalking anybody but the Pilsner delivery guy at his local bar, and if there was a way for Jake to escape the clutches of Dullsville and _not_ be bored into an early grave, he was absolutely going to take it. 

“Oh, hey - is that the time already?Gosh, my grandmother’s cat is getting christened tomorrow, and I really can’t miss out on Mittens’ big day, he’d be so upset with me, family comes first am I right?!”Standing, Jake casts a few bills onto the table and gives Teddy his best _Hate To Go_ grin.“Anyways, this night went _super_ fast and I’ve learned a bunch about pilsners.Fascinating stuff, my man.”Already taking backward steps, Jake raises his hand in a final farewell, turning as the offer of a weekend jazz brunch blessedly falls just out of earshot. 

There’s a post-battle rush of blood entering his veins as Jake nears the exit - his body finally wakening from it’s dormant state - and even though he really has been trying to keep Amy off of his mind, Jake cannot help but wonder _how on earth_ somebody like Teddy ever managed to date someone as amazing as her. 

* * *

“No!No, don’t release anything until I get to the White House,”Amy barks into her cell, holding up the phone with one shoulder as she pulls her apartment door shut, testing the lock before turning away.“There’s too much riding on this.I don’t know who let this guy loose with a box of crayons again, but in less than an hour he’s managed to ruffle the feathers of half the country, and we need to figure out the smartest way to shut it down.”

Her heeled boots click against the concrete steps leading out from her apartment building, and Amy listens to the intern on the other end of the line for another moment before bidding goodbye and hanging up, pinching the bridge of her nose as she reaches the footpath. 

Keith Pembroke, a reporter for the Seattle Times (a term Amy uses loosely - she’s fairly certain he found his journalism degree in a box of Cap’n Crunch), had chosen last night to publish an article on his personal blog: The Vulture’s Circle.Having made his preference for Holt’s opposition, Madeleine Wuntch, clear very early in the game; Pembroke had been a constant thorn in Amy’s side during the entire campaign trail - particularly, for his uncanny ability to find snippets of truth and bend them to his own convenience. 

His latest diatribe, much like older offerings, consisted of blatantly fabricated data paired with outdated quotes taken well out of context; and, before Amy’s breakfast could even been digested, had managed to go viral: skyrocketing to the top of the newsfeed of every social media platform known to man. 

She lets out a sigh at the thought of the day ahead, tightening the pinch before dropping her hands to the side.Her upper back muscles were already beginning to contract - a sure-fire sign of an impending stress attack - and quietly Amy wonders if anybody would _really_ notice if she just turned around and went back to bed. 

“-er has left the building.ETA fifteen minutes.”

Three weeks into having Secret Service agents following her footsteps, the voice of Charles Boyle is now familiar to Amy, but it’s the beginning of his sentence that pulls her mind out of it’s _How do I fix this_ fog. 

“Wait.I missed the beginning of that.”Taking two deliberate steps forward, Amy moves to stand in front of Charles.“Boyle.Do I … do you two have a code name for me?”Swivelling her head to the right, Amy notices Jake standing off to the side, and calls out in his direction.“Do I have a code name?”

Taking a conveniently timed sip of his coffee, Jake turns slightly away, raising his free hand towards his earpiece as though receiving a message, and Amy rolls her eyes.

(The man was a decent bodyguard, but a _terrible_ liar.)

She turns back to Boyle, feeling a slight satisfaction in his nervous shuffle, and keeps her brow raised until he answers.“Binder.Your code name is The Binder.”

“I’m … I’m the binder?” _What a perfect code name._ Blinking, Amy’s eyes switch between the two agents before landing on Jake again, conveniently no longer receiving ‘comms', and he stares at Boyle for a beat before responding.

“It was a team decision.”Pasting on that stupidly wide grin (the one that Amy will never admit to finding a _little_ charming), Jake takes a step towards her. “But, in the interest of full disclosure,” he pauses, jabbing a finger against his own chest; “ _I_ made a hard campaign to call you Fart Monster.”

With the gnarling ache of tension in her frame taking a backseat for a moment, Amy swings around to face Jake completely, letting out a sigh.“Peralta, that’s ridiculous.The Binder is a great name, and it makes total sense.You calling me Fart Monster would make as much sense as me calling you …” flailing, her eyes land on the fruit cart on the corner of her street, blurting out whatever her brain registers first.“I don’t know … Pineapples.”

Looking oddly startled by her choice of code name, Jake’s brows knit slightly and he turns away.“Yeah.That would be weird.”

From the pocket of her blazer, Amy can feel the steady vibrations of a series of text messages coming through, and in her distracted state doesn’t pick up on the small giggle that escapes Charles’ mouth, or the look of warning that crosses over Jake’s face in response.Instead, she makes her way over to the town car that both of her bodyguards insist on her using, hunching her shoulders once again as a call from Terry comes through. 

Political crisis number two begins to unfold as the car pulls away from the curb, and for not even the first time today, Amy silently curses the existence of Keith ‘The Vulture’ Pembroke. 

* * *

“You could issue a statement.Through a rival publication.Take over the headlines and hashtags and whatnot.”

From her position perpendicular to her desk, Amy pauses her manic pacing, her socked feet (grey of course, to match her pantsuit) sinking in to the soft carpet below. “No, the last administration did something similar just before the change of office.Didn’t end well.”Folding her arms across her chest she resumes her steps, and from his position perched along the edge of the bookshelf, Jake sighs. 

To say that the first ten or so days of having two Secret Service agents following her every move had been rough on Amy would be an understatement in the least.Growing up in a household constantly bustling with the activities of her seven brothers, she had fought hard to establish a life of her own, and was fiercely protective of her independence. 

Having two relative strangers insert themselves into her daily routine - particularly when _one of them_ continued to make sex tape jokes whenever the term ‘debrief’ was mentioned - had pushed what probably should have been constant fear of being stalked to the side, and Amy had spent a good portion of the first two weeks arguing with Special Agent Peralta about almost everything under the sun. 

It had only been five days ago that, in the midst of her usual routine - burning a path into the office floor with indecision (once, just _once_ , she’d like a day to pass without any drama) - Jake had begun responding to Amy’s absent-minded musings with ideas of his own. _Great_ ideas, that (despite Amy’s initial reservations) had actually ended up leading to the perfect solution; and quickly a habit of bouncing ideas off of each other had been formed.

“What if we went in a different direction?Sent him a bunch of broken feathers or something?Get all up in his head?”

Frowning, Amy looks up in confusion.“Broken feathers?”

“You know.Because he’s the vulture.”

“Oh.”Cocking her head to the left, Amy considers the notion for a brief second before coming to her senses.“No.Too creepy.We don’t want to hurt him, we just want him to stop spreading so much garbage.Plus, it’s a little _too_ psychological.You know he’s bringing lemons to that knife fight.”

“Can’t say I’ve met him, but he does kind of give off that aura.”

“Ugh.I’m envious of you for that.”

With a twist of his lips, Jake nods in understanding, and the sound of Amy’s repetitive footsteps return. 

“Do nothing and hope it goes away?”Amy can almost sense the shrug that follows Jake’s latest offer, and she looks up just in time to catch him mid-yawn. 

“Over my dead body.And that’s like the third time you’ve yawned in the past hour.Whats gotten into you, Peralta?Have you switched to decaf or something?”She grins, and Jake rolls his eyes.

“No, I just seem to be suffering from the lingering effects of your boyfriend’s soul-sucking stories about the history of pilsners.My body thinks it went through a full REM cycle just sitting across from him, so sleeping once I got home was a no go.I should have burrowed my way out from under the table when I had the chance.”He shudders, running a hand along the edge of his face before fixing Amy with a pointed stare.“And if I recall our deal correctly, it’s Jake.”

(The proviso of both guards calling Amy by her name instead of _ma’am_ had been that she, in turn, followed suit.It hadn’t been an easy transition, particularly due to the fact that one of the few times she _had_ referred to Jake by name, Gina and her sonar hearing had picked up on it through the walls of the cafeteria, and had proceeded to send Amy transcripts of ‘forbidden love’ romance novels for the rest of the week.)

“ _Ex_ boyfriend, thank you very much.”Rounding the table, Amy picks up the pile of messages on her desk - all of them from various reporters - and shakes her head.Admittedly, there had been a couple of times in the past week or so that she’d thought about telling Jake the truth, and thereby save him from the Pilsner vortex.But then he’d spent an entire (already stressful) day walking two paces in front of her, announcing her movements to anyone in earshot; and Amy figured that a night with Teddy wouldn’t be such a bad thing for Special Agent Peralta. 

“SUPER grateful for your recommendation that we should meet up, by the way.I had to throw away one of my favourite blue shirts after the tedium seeped into the fabric.God, how did you ever get him to shut up?”He blinks, then clicks his fingers.“Oh, right.Sex.”

“Sadly, no.Even that wouldn’t lead him to change the topic.”The sentence falls out of Amy’s mouth before she can stop it, and she can feel the back of her neck begin to heat up as she stares intently at her desk.It wasn’t like her to have such a lack of discretion (even if it was technically true). 

(One does not get compared - _mid-coitus_ \- to the finest bottle of bohemian brew without the memory being burnt into one’s mind.Forever.)

“Ugh, really?”

Sighing, she shakes her head. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ “I couldn’t make that up if I tried.”

Blessedly, Amy’s assistant Gary chooses that exact moment to knock on Amy’s doorframe - but her relief at the potential for distraction from an already awkward conversation lasts precisely 0.02 seconds. 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I have Jones from The Post on line one, and Shepard from WPFW on two.Both are chasing statements on Pembroke’s blog.”He pauses, cringing at the sight of Amy’s mouth settling into a thin line, and continues with obvious hesitation.“Also, Kylie is on three, confirming today’s dress fitting at 2pm.”

Glancing quickly at Amy, Jake moves with steady, purposeful strides across her office, coming to stop in front of Gary’s nervous face.“And you are?”

Gary’s face pales, and his eyes jump towards his boss before returning to Jake.“Uh, Garry Jennings, sir?”

“Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm.And what is your role here at The White House, particularly in relation to Ms. Santiago?”

Blinking, Gary raises a slightly shaking hand, pointing with his thumb at the desk behind him.“I’m Ms. Santiago’s assistant, Agent Peralta.We’ve met, actually.Several times.”He lowers his hand at Jake’s stare, swallowing nervously.“You walked past me at my desk just half an hour ago.”

Moving his right hand up to his earpiece, Jake makes a show of pretending to activate his internal comms, glancing again in Amy’s direction.“Assistant Jennings appears legitimate.”Crossing both arms in front of his chest, Jake studies Gary’s appearance once more.“And this meeting with Kylie.Who is she, and who arranged it?”

Looking up at the ceiling in frustration, Amy lets out a heavy sigh, interrupting whatever was happening in her doorway.“Just ignore him, Gary.Consider him white noise.”Narrowing her eyes, Amy turns her stare towards Jake.“Stand down, Mister Super Special Agent.Kylie is one of my oldest friends, and we’re meeting so I can choose a dress for tomorrow night’s charity gala.No need for vetting on this one.”

Jake’s arms tighten, and he matches Amy’s stare with his own.“I don’t recall seeing an appointment for today.”

“It’s a dress store.In a mall.It’s a very public place.I think we’ll be fine, Peralta.”

“Ma’am, I really thought that Diaz had made all of this clear - ”

“Don’t you start _ma’am_ -ing me Peral- WAIT!That’s it!”Amy throws one hand up to the ceiling, releasing it from the fist that had begun to form mid-argument with her guard.The two men in front of her freeze, picking up on her glee but unsure of how to proceed.“Pembroke!I just figured out what to do with him.”

Rearing back slightly, Jake regards Amy with a confused expression.“Take him dress shopping?”

“What?No.”Pushing away from her desk, Amy stoops to slide her shoes back on, hopping as her right heel slides into place.“We need to beat him at his own game!” 

Jake’s obvious uncertainty continues, this time glancing in Gary’s direction, and both men move quickly to the side as Amy comes barging towards the exit.“If he wants to misquote us, we’ll do the same!But use it as a tool, you know?Educate the public on what his henchmen keep doing.”Making it halfway down the hallway, Amy notices the lack of echoing footsteps and turns to glare at her guard.“Are you following me, or not?”

“Right now, I’m really not sure I am,”Jake mutters, smoothing down his tie as he hurries to join her, and Amy grins in satisfaction. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the topic, either, Santiago.”His voice takes on a sterner tone, and Amy slows down her steps.“You don’t go anywhere without a security detail, understand?”His jaw clenches, eyes rolling towards the ceiling before focusing on the floor in front of them, and from beside him Amy nods, feeling unusually contrite. 

“Just … let me take down Pembroke first, okay Jake?I need this win today.”

“And _I_ need to keep you safe, Amy.” 

The tension lingers between the two as Amy heads towards Terry’s office, the silence apologetic on one end and frustrated on the other.And even as the hours pass, and she’s working madly with her team to take down the Vulture, Amy cannot seem to let go of the sight of utter despair that had flickered over Jake’s face when she’d muttered the words _over my dead body._

* * *

“So.Tell me more about this whole ‘bodyguard’ situation.”

Studying the three dresses hanging before her in the changing room, Amy flickers a bewildered glance at the curtain separating her and Kylie before reaching for option one.“What do you mean?”

“I mean, last time we spoke, you couldn’t stop talking about how much of a pain in the butt this guy was.Making stupid jokes, hovering around, being genuinely irritating even though he’s technically there to save your life.I believe the term you used was that you ‘finally understood why Peter Pan kept losing his shadow’.”

Shimmying into the blue fabric, Amy studies her reflection, vetoing the dress before Kylie can even see it.“And?”

The roll of Kylie’s eyes is almost audible through the curtain, and Amy’s teeth sink into her lower lips as she reaches for a red silk number.“Oh, we’re just going to ignore the flirty banter I just witnessed between the two of you, are we?.”

Holding the corset of the unzipped dress close to her chest, Amy yanks open a section of the curtain to glare at her best friend.“We are _not_ flirty!” She whispers, scooting to shield the rest of her undressed body from public view. 

“Oh, please!You two are on a one-way ticket to Flirt-Town.”Gesturing for Amy to spin around, Kylie pulls up the zipper and stands back to survey the dress.“All secret glances and pushing each others buttons.You totally think he’s cute.”

“ _Kylie!_ ”Poking her head out to check on Jake’s location, Amy clocks his steady presence just outside of the changing room entrance before turning back to the blonde in front of her.“You’re being ridiculous.None of that is true.”

“Tell that to your bright-red ears, friend.”Letting out a chuckle at Amy’s immediate slap of her hands to either side of her face, Kylie continues.“At least they match the dress - which looks amazing on you, by the way.Besides, what’s the big deal?He’s actually kind of handsome.Not my type, but totally yours.”She winks, craning her neck to check Jake hasn’t moved, and lowers her voice.“You threw me off there for a hot minute with that whole Teddy situation, but this guy is way better suited to you.And _not_ just because he looks good in a suit.”

Looking over at Jake again, Amy admittedly nods at Kylie’s last statement.Despite his uncanny ability to butt in to serious situations with poorly timed jokes, the man _did_ know how to fill out a suit.Her eyes follow the length of his frame, taking another second to appreciate a view she does’t normally get to acknowledge; feeling her face heat up with embarrassment when he eventually turns to check on her presence.Across from her, Kylie laughs softly, and Amy covers her face with her hands, ducking back into her cubicle. 

“But thats the thing.Sometimes he’ll do something, or look at me in a certain way, and I think to myself that maybe he’s a little cute.And then he’ll start humming a Taylor Swift song while I’m trying to concentrate on writing an important announcement, or block the interns and admins from talking to me when I’m walking to and from meetings.Last week, he pretended to handcuff me to him when I tried to sneak out to lunch on my own, Kylie.The man knows no boundaries.”

Unclipping the last dress from it’s hanger, Amy listens to the _deep in thought_ hum of her friend just outside the curtain, and moves quickly to settle the fabric over her skin.Years of friendship had taught her that hum almost definitely lead to Kylie dropping a truth bomb of some sort, and being dressed for such an occasion really was better for everyone. 

“Sounds to me like he’s been taking a different kind of bullet for you, Amy.”

With her face crinkling in the mirror’s reflection, Amy whips open the curtain again, gripping on to the edge with her fingers.“What on earth does that mean?”

“It means, Miss Perfect GPA, that while the stalker thing is obviously a problem, this guard of yours has realised that he _also_ needs to protect you from all the stress and drama that someone in a role like yours tends to be surrounded by.You know, the classic art of distraction.”Raising her eyebrows, Kylie gives a thumbs-up approval to Amy’s final dress, a black floor length strapless.“Which is kind of brilliant, by the way.I was there for the Great Anxiety Attack of 2014, and you and I both know that did _not_ end well.”

“Ahh, no.”Rolling her eyes, Amy shakes her head, throwing her palm towards her friend’s incredulous face.“Sorry.I know you’ve got a great track record with these revelations of yours, but this one is _way_ off the mark.”Sliding the curtain closed again before any comeback could be delivered, Amy shakes her head in disbelief, muttering to herself as she lowers the zipper. 

As the dress drops to the floor, Amy reaches for her slacks and blouse, buttoning them incorrectly three times before letting out a heavy sigh.Various interactions between herself and Jake over the last fortnight begin to run through her mind, peppered by the sound of his laughter as Kylie obviously joins him in waiting for Amy’s exit, and she stares into the mirror without ever seeing her reflection. 

There was no way Kylie was right about Jake - especially because, if she _was,_ then Amy owed Jake a series of apologies for every time she’d cursed his name (and when she really thinks about it, there were a _lot_ ).But there was a difference between putting on a facade for the sake of interference, and being naturally annoying - and Jake’s was definitely the latter. 

_Wasn’t it?_

* * *

“So _that’s_ why, if you ask me, the hoof really is the most underrated part of any good stew.”

Doing her very best to tune out the rest of Charles’ culinary recommendations, Amy takes a well-earned sip of her champagne and scans the surrounding crowd as the gala begins to wind down. 

Tonight’s event had been a success on all counts.With the proceeds from every sale going to a charity close to both Holt and Amy’s hearts, all tickets had been sold long before they’d opened the doors; and spending the evening brushing shoulders with some of Washington’s finest had been a welcome change from the norm.Drawing in the crowd’s attention with his steady timbre, President Holt’s closing speech had left an air of inspiration around the room, and even as their team worked behind the scenes to determine the final tally, they all felt confident that they were going to be able to make a sizeable contribution by the time the night was over. 

Despite all of this, there was still something about the evening that had felt a little _off_ to Amy, and as the hours ticked by, the missing factor had become increasingly obvious.

Without her usual shadow whispering inappropriate jokes in her ear, yesterday’s conversation with Kylie had continued to play on Amy’s mind; and although she’d been hoping to use tonight as an opportunity to look at Jake with a different perspective, a last-minute meeting with some higher-ups had meant that Charles had needed to step in to cover Jake’s position. 

(Which was fine, really - Charles Boyle was a commendable agent, in a lot of ways.He just … _wasn’t Jake_ … and it surprised Amy just how much of a difference that had made.)

“Really, when you think about it, the meat around the tail is so tender that it would simply be a waste to throw it away,”Charles continues as they head towards the exit; and Amy feels Jake’s eyes on her before she can make him out in the crowd, a small series of tingles scattering along the back of her neck.

The youth development representative and her partner move slightly to the right, and in the gap Amy sees him; locking eyes from across the room as she diverts her and Charles’ path towards him.His gaze follows them as they near, flitting down and up again to take in her floor length dress and delicately curled hairstyle; and Amy finds herself standing just that little bit taller as they come to a stop in front of him. 

“Jakey!There you are.I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it at all.”

Blinking rapidly, Amy feels Jake’s eyes tear away from her own, darting over to Charles as he nods.“Yeah, sorry bud.Turns out things went far longer than expected.But, you’re off the hook now, I can take over from here.”

From her position off to the side, Amy’s brows knit as she witnesses a staring contest start between the two men, an obvious conversation via other signals taking place in front of her very eyes.After a minute, Charles clears his throat, clamping down a smile as he bids goodnight to both of them, and briefly she wonders if this means that he won. 

Jake’s eyes are on her again when Amy looks up, noticing for the first time the warmth that seems to seep out of them, and she waits until her heart seems to have slid a little further away from the top of her throat before speaking. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, shoulders jumping slightly and he stammers out a quick “Huh?Oh, no reason.”With a well-practiced I’m Waiting look forever up her sleeve, Amy throws out the big guns, and after a beat Jake sighs.“I don’t know, I guess I just kind of expected you to be in some sort of bedazzled pantsuit or something.I mean, I know you tried on stuff the other day, but I don’t think it had really occurred to me that you would be wearing an actual dress, and you just … yeah.”Running one hand along the back of his neck, he scans their surroundings (Amy thinks, perhaps, out of habit) before returning his gaze back to her.“You look … nice.”

She blinks, waiting for a sex tape joke or ill-fitting code name to follow through, and feels only a little surprised at the silence.“I look nice?”

“I mean … maybe don’t shoot down the bedazzled pantsuit idea either, because I think that could _really_ kick if you wore it to the right event, but … yes.You look great.”

Amy can feel her skin grow warm as a blush washes over, and she nods her thanks as Jake leads the way out of the hall.While the evening had been a nice chance to dress up and celebrate, she was also kind of completely craving the comfort of her favourite sweats; and knowing that they were potentially only a car ride away made the call for home feel infinitely stronger. 

The air feels cool on her shoulders as they filter through the crowd milling on the sidewalk; Amy making her final goodbyes as Jake mutters into an actually working earpiece, a familiar car pulling up to the curb just as she bids goodnight to two of the evening’s biggest benefactors.

In the coming days and weeks the events that happen next will be retold, piece by piece, so often that even those currently tucked in their beds will feel like they were there.But in the moment, all Amy hears is a sharp series of pops - so distant, her mind misallocates them as nearby fireworks - and the feeling as though her feet have left the ground, somehow moving without any prompting, propelling towards the waiting town car as though on hyper speed. 

Her body is crowded in the backseat before she realises she’s there, shoes discarded to the floor and knees curled up into her chest; a racing heartbeat pounding against her skin.Her mouth remains open in a silent scream - the reality of her terror, in the moment, too great to vocalise - and as a cacophonous melody of shouting, footsteps and screeching tyres fills her senses, the only thing that Amy can make total sense of is the feeling of Jake’s front pressed firmly against her back. 

He shouts something into the earpiece as their car lurches through the streets, a reassuringly tight grip holding her still as the vehicle’s inertia pulls them from one side to the other, and she wants to say _thank you_ ; wants to tell him she’s safe, but Amy’s heart is firmly lodged in her throat, and before she can swallow it down the whole world fades to black. 


	3. bittersweet memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pausing, Jake runs a hand over his face, the fatigue clearly beginning to set in. “To be honest I was only going to walk by your place, make sure everything was cool before heading home. But then I noticed your light was on, and … well, I was thinking you might be having a little trouble sleeping right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, another longish chapter! Thank you for your patience on this one, it's so appreciated 💗💗

**chapter three:bittersweet memories**

The clock in Amy’s bedroom has an irritatingly loud tick.

It’s a mundane observation, she knows; but even right now in the pitch blackness of her bedroom, with the palms of her hands aching from the persistent dig of her fingernails, it’s the only thing her mind seems capable of focusing on. 

She’s not entirely sure why it’s taken so long to notice it, really.Strictly a digital clock girl before last year, Amy had bought the one currently holding court on her nightstand purely because she enjoyed the face; and had reasoned that so long as she stuck to a rigid six-week battery replacement schedule, she would never encounter the horror of tardiness at the broken hands of an analogue clock.Her considerations had been careful, and thorough (much to the chagrin of the store’s employee, who really just wanted to make a sale).But not thorough enough, because here she was - lying wide awake in bed after what could easily be described as one of the most terrifying evenings of her life, feeling the lash of every tick as it echoes across the room. 

_But then again, how could anybody ever predict such a thing to begin with._

It feels like a lifetime ago, but it had only been three hours, forty-seven minutes and thirty-one seconds since Jake had lifted Amy - almost as if she were weightless - and thrown both of them into a town car, zipping away from the curb while the world outside still crackled in her ear.

Two hours, twenty-five minutes and eight seconds since she’d been dismissed from the emergency debrief held in a small room at the hospital, the steady hand of President Holt on her shoulder as she left a reminder that despite all of the madness, the team was safe. 

One hour, fifty-six minutes and and forty-one seconds since Amy had stood in her shower, trying as hard as she could to scrub the night away; and one hour, thirty-nine minutes and eighteen seconds since she’d realised it was fruitless, and decided to go to bed. 

That last one added up to 5,958 seconds.Amy could tell you, because she’d counted every last tick. 

Her thumb hovers over the sewn pattern of her duvet, fingertips tracing the curved edges of the imprinted flowers again and again until she can picture them in her mind.It’s a trick that she’s used a hundred times before to lull herself to sleep, but tonight it seems as ineffective as everything else.

6,174 seconds.

The bulb in her bedside lamp seems confused by Amy’s sudden demand for light, emitting only a half-hearted glow as she rises, grappling for the glasses left on top of a pile of books close to two hours ago.Her feet feel heavy, much like her mind; and she checks for the fourth time today that her curtains are drawn tight before changing into sweatpants and a faded college shirt.

If she wasn’t going to sleep, then she might as well clean.

Her hands are covered by latex gloves and the scent of Mr Clean lingers in the air less than an hour later when Amy hears a knock on her front door, three short but firm raps that somehow manage to break through the myriad of thoughts running through her mind.Logically, she knows that there are two additional agents on either side of her door tonight - stationed by the President himself, and there for as little or as long as she needs them to be - and their presence alone meant that anybody knocking isn’t perceived to be a threat.But it doesn’t stop her heart leaping into her throat, stomach falling to her feet and her hands freezing mid-scrub, eyes trained intently on the door until finally she hears a familiar voice. 

“Amy?It’s Jake.Can I come in?”

For the first time this evening, her traitorous mind decides to divert away from it’s analysis of the night’s events to point out how her heartbeat only seems to _in_ crease at the sound of Jake’s voice; and Amy pushes it all to the side, peeling off her gloves with a snap. _One crisis at a time._

Fussing with her hair and tugging the edge of her sweater down, Amy chooses to focus on the sound of her socks shuffling along the wooden floorboards as she moves quickly towards the door, stopping to glance through the peephole _just in case._ Releasing three different locks, she does her best to ignore the way her entire body seems to relax the moment Jake’s calming brown eyes meet hers; ushering him in before bolting it all up again just as quickly. 

The clock on the wall behind him ticks over to 1am, and the bowtie that had sat so neatly beneath his collar earlier this evening now hangs untied on either side of his chest.With a rumpled shirt and short curls that had clearly been yanked in frustration, Jake’s exhaustion was obvious, and Amy folds her arms over her chest as she waits for him to speak. 

“Hey.It’s late, I know.I’m sorry.” His eyes roam over her appearance as he speaks, and Amy shrugs her indifference.“I wanted to come earlier, but I’ve been stuck in so many interviews and debriefs and whatever.It’s all just .. insanity, in so many ways.”Pausing, Jake runs a hand over his face, the fatigue clearly beginning to set in.“To be honest I was only going to walk by your place, make sure everything was cool before heading home.But then I noticed your light was on, and … well, I was thinking you might be having a little trouble sleeping right now.” 

Amy’s gaze falls to the floor, and she replies with a nod.“You could say that.”

“Yeah, that happens.”The room falls silent, and slowly Amy raises her head, taken aback by the obvious concern in Jake’s stare.“Are you okay, though?”

“I’m okay, thanks to you.”

“You’re safe, and at home, thanks to me.But … are you okay, Amy?”

The distinction was unexpected, and Amy swallows a lump in her throat, shaking her head.“I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Jake glances down at the screen to check the time and raises a brow.“Have you slept?Like, at all?”

“Not really.”

Shucking off his jacket and casting it over the top an armchair, Jake nods quickly, pointing towards her couch.“Okay.Take a seat, then.I’m going to make you a hug mug."

“You’re going to make me a _what_?”

He’s halfway to the kitchen before Amy can even finish her question, and his voice carries across the open planned apartment as he responds.“A hug mug.It’ll soothe the soul, trust me.”Catching her eye across the counter, he grins, shooting one finger."Peralta Guarantee.”

Despite her curiosity peaking to an all-time high, Amy follows her guard’s direction, walking slowly back over to her favourite position on the couch and snagging her favourite throw on the way.The sound of Jake moving around her kitchen - opening and closing cabinets as he searches for mugs and whatever other utensils this ‘hug mug’ requires - doesn’t sound nearly as intrusive as she would have thought; and once settled, she turns to watch Jake as he heads towards her fridge, opening the door with a low whistle.

“Okay, so … you’re either bad at cooking or just a _really_ big fan of takeout.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m _bad_ at it, I just - ”

“Amy, there are like five different restaurant containers here.Wait.Have you _categorised_ each section of your fridge?”

“I work long hours!And … I like things to be organised.”

Jake glances at her from over his shoulder, the glow from the interior light illuminating his profile perfectly.“You don’t have to tell _me_ that.”

The intimacy in Jake’s response makes her falter.“W-well, sometimes after a long day it’s just easier to …”her sentence trails off as she hears her kettle click over to finished, craning her neck slightly to catch a peek as Jake slams the fridge door shut.

“Hey, no judgment here.I’m on a first name basis with all the pizza delivery guys in my area.Some say it’s sad, _I_ say it’s free garlic bread.”

A small smile grows on Amy’s face as she listens to Jake finish his concoction, the edges of her spoons singing out as they hit the sides of each mug in rapid succession.It turns into an all-out grin as Jake appears in front of her, moving carefully with a drink in each hand, steam rising and curling through the air between them as he rests one on the coffee table before handing her the other. 

“So … what does this ‘hug mug’ contain, exactly?”

“It’s something my mom used to make for me whenever I got stressed out as a kid.”Taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch, Jake reaches for his drink, letting the vapours wash over him before continuing.“I can’t explain it, but … it only works when someone makes it for you.Which makes sense, I guess, considering it’s a hug mug and you can’t really hug yourself.” 

Following his lead, Amy lifts her own cup towards her face, regarding the darker liquid with suspicion before taking a careful sniff.“Jake … this is just hot chocolate?!”

Jake’s jaw drops in obvious indignation, and he shakes his head before holding his own mug up slightly higher.“Ah, _no_!This is not _just_ a cup of hot chocolate, Amy.It’s a hug mug, and the hug mug contains a very special secret ingredient that cannot be divulged to outsiders.”His brow crooks in pretend contempt, and she bites back a laugh.“All _you_ need to know is that it is delicious and important and will cure whatever ails you.” 

Amy shakes her head, taking a sip and letting out a sigh as the taste of chocolate washes over her tongue.Considering she had no recollection of having cocoa in her pantry - let alone the mystery addition that made this _perfect_ blend that was neither gritty nor too sweet - it was slightly amazing how with just one sip, she could feel any lingering tension begin to fade. 

“Magic, right?”

Glancing up at Jake just in time to catch him grin before savouring another sip, Amy picks up on his firm grip around her old college mug, and in an instant her mind flashes back to the strength of his hands as he lifted her towards the town car.Her stomach drops as the memory of all that followed runs through her once again, and she takes a steadying breath, tucking her knees up towards her chest.“Do you know anything?About tonight?I mean, I’m sure it’s all top secret national security and all that, but … they said at the hospital that it looked to be random and I just wondered … do you know anything?”

“Uh, it’s all pretty Secret Squirrel, sorry.”Jake winces in apology, glancing at Amy’s front door before continuing.“I’ll say that it looks like they acted alone, and that a note found on the scene ties it to a protest for an amendment that was recently passed through Congress.” 

“And do you think it could have been …”

Jake’s face turns somber, resting a half-full mug against his knee as he leans forwards slightly.“It doesn’t look to be related to your stalker, Amy.I’m sorry - and, it feels weird to say this - but I really wish it had been.”She nods, trying to slide on a reassuring smile, and Jake looks down at his drink.“I hate that they’re still out there.”

Amy nods, hiding the gathering of her thoughts behind another sip.While it could be the familiarity of a late night cocoa that’s making her feel so comfortable, she’s fairly certain it’s the person making it, and she drains the last of her drink before voicing some of the thoughts that had been running through her mind all evening.“I really just thought I would handle something like this so much better than I have, you know?They warn you about the dangers of working somewhere like The White House, and tell you what to do in certain scenarios … I’ve read all the guides and felt so confident that I would be fine.”

Across from her, Jake nods slowly, and with his silent encouragement Amy continues.“But … tonight?It was just fear, and panic, and then …” _you._ She swallows the last part of the sentence, not quite ready to acknowledge just how much her attention had been occupied by memories of Jake since he’d left her at the hospital.As someone raised to be strong and sensible, she’d never imagined needing ‘rescuing’ from anyone.But the memory of Jake holding her close, and protecting her very life with his own, made her stomach flip every single time. 

Shuffling forward on the couch, Jake leans towards Amy, frowning slightly as he clearly debates what to say next.“There’s no _right_ way to respond to these things, Amy.Agents like Rosa and Charles and I … we’ve been trained so intensely that a lot of it just becomes muscle memory.But when the night is over, everything catches up to us just as well.I can’t even tell you how I managed to get through the first big threat situation I went through.Or the second or third, for that matter.We’re not supposed to be calm - we know it’s wrong, and it’s okay for our minds to react however it does.”

“So … what does one do when they can’t switch their brain off, after nights like this?"

Leaning closer still, Jake rests one hand along Amy’s forearm, his voice soft but clear with his answer.“You drink a hug mug, and you talk to me.”

Unfolding her legs from her chest, Amy nods, tucking a loose section of her ponytail behind one ear.“Thank you, Jake.”

“Anytime, Amy.”

In the following silence, Jake shifts slightly in his seat, bending one leg until an ankle is resting perpendicular to a knee.His slightly unkempt appearance made him look less like her bodyguard and more like an old friend keeping her company, and it peaks her curiosity.“Can I ask you something?”

Turning his head slightly towards her, Jake smiles.“You can ask me anything.”

Somehow, she knows he’s telling the truth.

“What made you want to become a Special Agent?”

“Oh.Well …” cupping the cooling mug with his right hand, Jake brings his left to scratch the back of his neck, a movement that Amy has begun to recognise as a nervous tick.“I don’t know that it was ever necessarily an _aspiration_ or anything.Truthfully, I always thought I would end up a badass rogue cop like John McClane, because he is literal goals.”

Cocking her head to the side, Amy frowns.“John McClane?Isn’t that the guy from Training Day or Phone Booth or something?”

“Die Hard, Amy.And it breaks my heart that you don’t immediately know that.”

She rolls her eyes, flashbacks of being stuck on the family couch while her seven brothers insisted on yet.another. action movie coming to mind, and in her silence Jake finishes his drink.

“But I think most of it came from the fact that my dad skipped out on my mom and I when I was about seven.He was in and out a lot of the time - a lot more out than in, to be honest - and as the years passed Mom started to date a few different guys.Some were cool, some were … not.And I guess as I grew older, the more protective I became.”Shrugging, Jake stretches out to place the now-empty mug on the coffee table, lining it up perfectly centre on the waiting coaster, and Amy fights back a smile. 

“Protective instincts was actually one of the things I graded highest in.You know, at the academy.Which is where I met Rosa, by the way - who, I don’t know if you know this, butstraight-up _disappeared_ after graduation.Legit went underground or something, because none of us could find her.To this day, Jimmy still swears she was the pilot that flew him on United back to Rochester.”Amy blinks, surprised and yet somehow not at all, and Jake nods in understanding. 

“Anyway, she called me a couple of years ago, and said something about finding a job that she thought I would, and I quote, ‘probably not suck at’.I was a year off making detective, but had just come out of a not-so-great relationship, and figured it was worth a shot.I just assumed I’d be another guy in the background or something, maybe looking after a sweet former-prez, hanging out at country clubs and the like.I really didn’t consider the possibility of being part of the actual presidential detail, or that one day The White House would become my office of sorts.”

He mumbles the last part, fingers toying with the edges of his rolled up sleeve and eyes trained on the floor, but in the quiet of 1am revelations Amy hears it all. _“Definitely didn’t think I’d ever meet somebody like you_.”

Her cheeks are still feeling warm when Jake manages to return his attention back to Amy, and a grin slips onto his face so easily she wonders if was ever really gone.“And what about you, Ms. Press Secretary Extraordinaire?”

“Me?”

“No, the cushion you’re sitting on.Yes, you!Your turn.What led you into a life of politics?” 

Squaring her shoulders out of habit, Amy looks over at Jake, surprised to find that the same answer she’d given over and over to family and friends alike dying on the tip of her tongue.Suddenly, the practised prose of _ambition_ and _opening doors to new opportunities_ fades to the back of her mind, and without even blinking, she speaks from the heart.

“To be honest, this wasn’t ever an aspiration for me, either.I was actually fresh from the academy myself when Holt asked me to join the campaign.And I only knew him through his husband.”

“Professor Cozner?”

“Yeah.I’d taken one of his classes as an elective when I studied at Columbia, back when we were all living in New York.And we’d stayed in touch post-graduation, occasionally running into each other at seminars or whatever.But it wasn’t until I was in my last few months of training, working part-time at an art gallery to cover rent, that I met Holt at an opening night for a local artist that he attended with Kevin.”

“Wait.Circle back for a second.You attended the police academy too?”

Amy nods, grinning.“Yeah, my father is a retired captain of the 8-3.”Jake nods, clearly impressed, and she continues.“So when I met him, Holt had just recently lost the race for commissioner to John Kelly, but was garnering a _lot_ of public support for his campaign platforms, and the whispers of his candidacy for president were growing stronger.In the space of a night, he got me completely on board; and about a month later he announced he was running, and offered me a place on the team.” 

“And the rest is history?”

“I guess so.Realistically, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and in no way did I imagine that I would ever end up in the role that I have.Safe to say, my family did _not_ understand for a long while there.”Toying with a frayed thread in the cuff of her sweater, Amy lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.“I just had the strongest instinct that if I didn’t take this opportunity, I was going to be missing out on something incredible.”

She looks up just in time to catch Jake staring at her, an unreadable look on his face, and _damnit_ if her heart doesn’t skip a beat. 

“Because if you have the chance to catch lightning in a bottle, you take it; right?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He gives her a soft smile, running one hand over his face and clearing his throat.“Hey you know what’s weird?If you’d ended up following in your father’s footsteps after all, and I’d never taken Rosa’s job offer … somewhere in another universe, you and I could have actually been cops in New York at the same time.”

“Huh.Kinda hard to imagine, isn’t it?”She squints, shaking her head.“What could have been."

“It really is.I’ve got to say though, all of what you just told me makes way more sense.No offence, but you’ve never struck me as a hugely political type.”

“A political type?”

“Yeah.I mean … I’ve been in this job for long enough now to know that politicians are all the same.Just different versions of the same devil, dancing around in masks so shiny you don’t realise you’re being sucked in until it’s too late.Can’t say I’m a fan of the whole thing.But you … you never seemed to be anything like them.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You definitely should.”

“And while I do get what you mean - because I’ve seen my fair share of shiny masks - I have to say, I don’t think Holt is going to be like that.”Letting her hands circle the air, Amy struggles to find the right words.“There’s an empathy within him that most of the others have just never even thought to have.He knows what it’s like to struggle, and wants to change whatever he can, even if it comes at no personal benefit.”

Jake’s mouth twitches slightly into a smirk, and Amy bites back another smile. _What is it about his smile that is so damn contagious?_ “So … what you’re saying is, the robot has feelings.”

Kylie’s confident analysis of her guard runs along the back of Amy’s mind, and after a steadying breath Amy speaks.“Jake, I owe you an apology.”

His eyebrows shoot up in clear surprise, and with a shake of his head he responds.“You don’t owe me anything, Amy.”

“No, I do.You’ve been trying so hard to keep my mind off of the reality of my situation, and lowering my stress levels every day so easily I hadn’t even noticed you doing it.And all the while, I’ve just been a straight-up pain in the butt to you."

“Not true.”

“No, it is.I guess that with everything else that was going on, I’d sort of … pushed the notion of somebody stalking me into the back of my mind, and guys like you and Boyle just became part of my day somehow.”The thread at the cuff finally falls loose, and Amy wraps her ring finger around the cotton.“It wasn’t really until _tonight_ happened, and I felt your firearm through the pocket of your jacket as you covered my body with your own, that it all started to feel really … real.There’s actually somebody out there that wants to hurt me.And you’re actually not going to give up until you find them.”

A strangely bashful look washes over Jake’s face, and as he runs one hand through his hair, Amy tilts her head in confusion.“Ah, yeah.You’re right about the not giving up, because I swear I won’t until this is all over.But … that wasn’t a weapon in my jacket.It was my Switch.”

Her eyebrows knit together.“Your switch?A switch to what?”

Jake’s mouth twists to the side, swivelling his head away from her and back again.“Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you really do live in the dark ages.I’m talking about my Nintendo Switch.”Bending forward, he stretches his torso to reach for the jacket still resting along the back of her chair, and digs into the breast pocket before pulling out an oddly shaped blue and red … _thing_. 

“It’s a console, and yes - I _know_ I’m not a teenager; the agency likes us to keep our minds sharp with all these brain training games, or whatever.But - and this is honestly where I’m going to sound like an adolescent, but it’s true - I mostly just play Mario on it.”

Blinking, Amy stares at the device in Jake’s hand.“Wait, how have I never seen you play with this thing before?”

“I’ve never seen you play with this thing before, title of your sex tape.”

“Jake.”

“Okay, okay.I don’t go near it when I’m on the clock, and _especially_ not when I’m shadowing you.It’s more for my downtime, or when I’m waiting for all the bigwigs to stop talking about stuff I don’t have clearance to hear, and I can finally join the meeting I was told to attend hours ago.”Rolling his eyes, Jake shrugs.“And you know… sometimes, after a particularly crappy day, there’s something incredibly satisfying about throwing a bunch of turtle shells at random strangers.”His eyes widen, and he raises his palms.“In the game, of course.Not in real life.That would be psychotic.”

Intrigued, Amy places her long-empty mug on it’s coaster and reaches for the Switch, ducking her head to conceal her bitten lip as Jake shuffles to sit beside her.“Show me how this thing works?”

The overly bright startup of Mario Kart flashes onto the screen, and Jake reaches one hand out to guide Amy through.“Okay, so … this here is Rainbow Road, which is a little intense but also real fun.I do _not_ recommend playing while drunk, I genuinely thought the screen was moving.”Amy chuckles, and he grins in satisfaction.“Oh, and that dude there with the yellow hat?That’s Wario, and there’s only one thing you need to know about him.He CHEATS.Just a big ol’ cheater that cheats.”

“Kinda sounds like you’ve got a cartoon nemesis there, tough guy.”

“Whaaat? No, I’ve beaten him lots of times … _super_ lots, in fact.”Jake’s hand brushes against Amy’s as he leans closer still, adjusting her grip over the hardware.Watching carefully as she navigates through her first course, he gives her an impressed nod as she comes in second.“See?It’s kinda fun, right?”

Amy can feel her competitive urges kick in, and she nods eagerly.“Okay, yeah.This is good.And this guy’s ass is mine.Quick, how do I play again?”

“Oh god.Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve unleashed a beast?”

The hands on the clock have moved past 2 by the time Amy cares to look up again, finally raising her hands in victory as she manages to ace her last course.Beside her, Jake raises his hand out for a high five, and their palms slap together loudly.“Okay, that was actually really fun.”

“I told you!But, look Ames.You strike me as somebody who’s pretty intelligent.” 

Still riding the high from her win, Amy picks up on the Jake’s nickname use and decides to use the adrenalin running through her.“You think I’m pretty and intelligent?”

“No, I … well I mean … yes but that’s not - stop confusing me!”Jake’s face turns a delicate shade of pink, and she grins.“Obviously, you’re crazy smart.And you’re doing really well with this game, but …”

“But … ?”

“You _do_ realise that moving your whole body in the direction you want the kart to go doesn’t actually make it happen to the pictures on the screen, right?”

Amy straightens in her seat, throwing Jake her best indignant stare.“I don’t do that.”Her eyes roam over her living room before landing back on the man next to her.“Do I?”

“I’m just saying.”Laughing, he tilts exaggeratively towards the coffee table in example.“At one point you were leaning onto your right _so hard_ I genuinely thought you were going to tip over.”

“Huh.Good thing I’ve got a guard here to cover me, right?”Jake laughs again in response, shaking his head slightly, and it suddenly occurs to Amy that she feels more relaxed than she has in days.Somehow, the person she’d been so quick to disregard has become the only one who could calm her down when her mind was in total overdrive; and all of this should probably terrify her, but it really didn’t. 

Reaching out to grab the console resting between them, Jake mumbles something about _secret tricks he can teach her_ , dropping his shoulder as Amy leans over to watch, and the closeness of it all makes her heart skip a beat. 

The sunlight is trickling through her living room curtains the next time Amy opens her eyes, and with a vague memory of falling asleep against Jake’s shoulder she stumbles through her living room, pausing only to read the _duty calls_ note left on the table. 

Picking out a softly coloured floral blouse for the day’s outfit, Amy finishes her morning routine with practiced Santiago efficiency, nodding to the additional guards as she makes her way out of the building. 

Charles is already waiting for Amy on the curb, smiling brightly as she heads towards their transport; and after an unsubtle wink from her secondary guard, Amy pulls out her phone to check the day’s schedule.

There were a hundred-odd messages from people checking up on her, and so many requests for comment that Amy immediately disregards them all.Her mind, while far less conflicted than the night before, still had a lot of thoughts running on a loop - and right now, she _really_ needed to talk to Rosa. 


	4. there's nowhere to hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, actually … it’s fine, Rosa. Totally fine, now that I think about it.” The nodding continues, and she’s fairly certain that she just looks like a bobble head by now, but the words are pouring out and there really isn’t any way to stop it. “Yeah. Nothing big. There definitely isn’t anything in my calendar about having a meltdown for growing a crush on my funny bodyguard and his cute smile so yeah, everything’s totally fine!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and thank you for sticking with me while I painted this with the tears of angels (not really, but I know it took me forever and I'm very sorry!) 💕 I've made it nice and long to cover my absence - more to come soon! 
> 
> (DEFCON ratings are used in this chapter - for those who aren't aware, this is a rating system used by US military, etc, as a state of readiness. Five is the lowest, one the highest.).

**chapter four: there’s nowhere to hide**

  
Considering yesterday’s assassination attempt had monopolised every headline and television broadcast known to state, the Press Room in the White House sat blessedly silent as time ticked over to 8:00 the following morning. 

The sense of _we shall persevere_ that buzzed through Holt’s staff - all of whom had arrived more determined than ever to represent their party - seemed to filter through to the various members of associated press, and it is only as the President himself moves to stand in front of the podium that each journalist begins to stand to attention.

“Good morning.I wish to keep this brief and to the point.It has been a long night for both myself and my team, but I will endeavour to cover all of the bases.”

From her position leaning against the doorframe of the staff entryway, Amy traces the tip of her middle finger over the embossed initials of her leather-bound briefing binder, following the curve of the S as she watches each member of the audience unconsciously lean forward in their seats, captivated by Holt within a few short sentences.A printed version of this morning’s intended speech remained within, untouched from the moment Holt stopped by her office this morning and declared he would run this morning’s session; and while Terry had remained on the fence on whether it would be the best decision to make, Amy can already tell that whatever their leader was about to say would far outweigh anything she could possibly put together. 

“Firstly, we thank you for your concern regarding the health and well-being of our team, and wish to confirm that there were no physical injuries recorded from the previous night’s events.”

Holt’s hands sweep over the platform, gripping the edge tightly as he leans forward, catching the eyes of several members of the press before continuing.“Secondly, I am aware that within the enormity of the role that I have taken on, there will on occasion be scenarios where I am considered to be somewhat the ultimate target.And despite all intended efforts, I cannot guarantee that over the length of my term, the decisions I make - and orders I put into place - will always be met with resounding affirmations from the very people I live to serve.” 

Holt’s careful gaze flickers over to Amy’s direction as he pauses, landing on his husband Kevin as he stands beside her in silent support.His chin dips by a mere quarter inch - a movement that those unaware would not think to pick up - and Holt’s mouth straightens as his attention returns to the press. 

“However.I cannot condone, or encourage, criticism that is delivered via acts of senseless violence; particularly when innocent people get caught in the crossfire.The notion that any of the civilians attending last night’s proceedings could have been injured for something they held no ownership to is both horrifying and infuriating to me.”

Lowland from The Post’s hand shoots up, his question thrown into the crowd without any prompting.“Do you have reason to believe all of this was an attempted act of castigation for recently passed bylaws?”

His irritation towards the disruption seeping through a withering gaze, Holt waits until Lowland’s hand has dropped back to his seat before responding.“We have credible intelligence that suggests this is the case.And I wish to make this clear: those who are choosing to make their displeasure known by such acts of vigilantism are doing little to serve either their cause, or the people that walk among them.Believe me when I tell you that those responsible for last night’s violence _will_ be held accountable.”

“However.It would be remiss not to acknowledge that both myself, and this administration, need to be open to criticism as much as we are praise, and that perhaps prior to this moment, there have been limited opportunities for one to feel their opinion is being heard.”Clearing his throat, Holt shuffles the paperwork on the lectern, and from behind him a series of phone numbers and email addresses flash onto the screen. 

“With that in mind, I have just this morning begun laying the groundwork for numerous response lines to be instated for this very purpose, some of which are already available and on display via the television behind me.”A series of hands shoot up in the crowd, and he continues without pause. “Our intention is for it to cover a multitude of languages over various forms of communication.And while I am aware that this still may not be able to accommodate each member of the public, I do hold onto the hope that it will lessen the gap significantly.”

The overwhelming scent of celebrity-endorsed perfume clouds Amy’s senses, and she glances to the left just in time to clock Gina’s arrival - the redhead’s fingers moving rapidly across her phone’s keyboard without ever taking her eyes off of Holt - and she gives her an unnoticed _good morning_ smile. 

“Furthermore, this project will be self-funded until we can ensure its efficacy; all of which can be reviewed at a later date.I believe that should cover the basis of this briefing, and will now welcome any questions you may still have.”

A sea of hands immediately begin to wave in front of Holt and he nods resolutely, closing the folder before him and calling on the correspondents one by one.With the hum of exclusives being broken by the minute, Gina finally tears her eyes away from the press room, regarding Amy’s outfit with a singular raised brow.

“Well good morning, Madam Flowers.”

Long since immune to the sartorial commentary of Gina Linetti, Amy brushes off the opening line, cocking her head towards Holt as he continues to field questions from the press.

“This is a really smart move.And it might get eaten alive by the opposition, but I really don’t think he cares.Which is _actually_ the best part about it.Don’t you think it’s a great idea, Gina?”

“I mean … he still hasn’t moved on my ‘less Sundays, more Fun Days’ initiative, but this is fine too, I guess.”

Amy’s mid eye-roll when Kevin pipes up from her right, responding with his softly-spoken voice.“Yes, Raymond and I spent a considerable amount of time this morning, theorising the probability of this program’s success.It was _quite_ thrilling.”

“I couldn’t agree more.In fact, one could say that in the moment, we could have been considered the next Pascal and de Fermat.”At the sound of his husband’s familiar voice, Kevin turns towards Holt, grasping his hand in a firm handshake that seemed to radiate far more than a simple greeting.The President nods his salutation towards his surrounding staff, holding onto Kevin’s hand a moment longer before beckoning Charles over from his position in the hallway behind Amy.

“Agent Boyle.I trust that you and Peralta have been working steadily with our colleagues at the FBI to find those responsible for last night’s attack.” 

Charles nods quickly, the bags underneath his eyes looking more pronounced than usual as he moves to stand before the president. “Around the clock, sir.We’re going to get this dirtbag, I assure you.”

“Dirtbag?Now hardly seems like the time for compliments.”

Blinking, Charles pauses before nodding.“Right you are, Mr President.”

“I hope to have the chance to thank Agent Peralta personally for his efforts in ensuring Ms Santiago’s safety, and I wish to offer you the same level of gratitude for your services.”Despite his expression remaining stoic, Holt turns towards Amy, a sentimental tone creeping into his voice as he politely ignores her humbled blush.“She is a highly valued member of our team.”

As Boyle inexplicably begins to compare her to a rare goose egg (or was it alligator? _It really is safer to just tune out_ ), Amy turns to check the hallway; scanning the faces as they pass and coming up short in her search for Rosa.There were a series of knots in her stomach that tightened whenever she thought about Jake (and the way they’d gravitated towards each other last night as the hours wore on); and while she was pretty certain she could put a name to this feeling, Amy also really wanted to talk to her sharp-shooting friend before she burst. 

(Her voicemail to Kylie as she’d gotten ready for work this morning had only resulted in a single ‘ _makeout with him already!’_ reply; and while Amy’s not _totally_ against the suggestion, a second opinion probably wasn’t a terrible idea.)

“Yes, well.”The tightness in Holt’s response pulls Amy back to the crowd in front of her, and she turns just in time to watch the President take several backward steps into the hallway.“One could talk about black market meat for hours, Agent Boyle.How … unfortunate, that both Kevin and myself have standing appointments we must immediately attend to.”He’s gone before Boyle can even muster a reply, and as Gina follows quickly behind, Charles turns to Amy with a defeated look on his face.

“Ugh.It’s like _nobody_ wants to talk about sucking the marrow out a goat’s knuckle anymore.”

Amy hears the scuff of Rosa’s boots before she sees her, turning to her right as Deetmore and Matthews quickly change direction to avoid the head of the Presidential Detail.A tiny smirk of victory crosses her friend’s face as she turns the corner, clocking their diversion, and Amy cannot help but grin at the scene.For somebody who’d invited her for a Wine and Nancy Meyers Marathon only a few months ago, Rosa knew just the right people to maintain her _Don’t Mess With Me_ exterior with. 

Keeping her tone hushed, Amy calls out Rosa, waiting until she’s noticed her presence before urging her over.“Are you free?I really need to talk to you.”

“Ahh, sort of.Is this about last night?I know we spoke, but … are you sure you’re okay?”

“She’s safe as houses, Agent Diaz.”Boyle pipes in, an obviously proud smile stretching over his face.“Jakey leapt in to save the day, like the hero he is.” 

Ducking her head slightly at the mention of her guard’s name, Amy nods in agreement, giving Rosa a quick side-eye as she walks towards an empty boardroom.Thankfully, the brunette picks up on the queue, and Amy breathes a sigh of relief as the door closes before Boyle can join them. 

“Alright, I’m going to need you to make this quick.Somebody keeps trying to contact the Attorney General over a rental listing on Facebook, and he’s screaming from the rooftop about it.”

Nodding, Amy twists her fingers together, shuffling nervously under Rosa’s expectant gaze.“Okay, quick.Good.That’s fine.I just .. need to talk to you about Jake.”Wincing, she shakes her head, already embarrassed.“I mean, Agent Peralta.”She glances over at the still-shut door, a sheepish smile crossing over her face.“I mean … Jake.”

“Jake?What did he do?Is it the sex tape jokes?He doesn’t mean it, but they can get annoying.I’ll tell him to shut up.”

“Ahh, no …” Finding an inconspicuous spot on the floor to stare at, Amy shakes her head, drumming up the nerve to admit the real reason she’d dragged Rosa into her office.“No, they actually make me laugh, which I really wasn’t expecting, to be honest.This is more of a - ” she pauses as Rosa’s phone vibrates loudly in her hand, waiting as the brunette checks the screen. 

Rosa’s mouth straightens into a thin line, eyes darting back and forth.“I have to be in the situation room in ten, Amy.Out with it.”

Amy nods quickly, letting her nerves bubble up to the top of her throat before deciding to jump on board the express train to denial instead. “You know, actually … it’s fine, Rosa. _Totally_ fine, now that I think about it.” The nodding continues, and she’s fairly certain that she just looks like a bobble head by now, but the words are pouring out and there really isn’t any way to stop it. “Yeah. Nothing big. There definitely isn’t anything in my calendar about having a meltdown for growing a crush on my funny bodyguard and his cute smile so yeah, everything’s totally fine!” 

“Whoa, hold on a second.What are you saying?”

The next part comes out in a huff:a jumble of words that, to her credit, Rosa stills seems to understand. 

“ _I’mprettysureIhaveacrushonJakeandIdon’tknowwhattodoandI’mkindafreakingoutaboutit._ ”

Rosa raises a single brow, and rears her head back slightly.“ …. Okay.This feels like we’re running close to a three on the Santiago Panic Scale.”

Amy’s pent-up energy begins to exert itself as a nervous pace around the room, and she shrugs without pause.“I don’t know what’s going on with me.I’ve never been that ridiculous damsel in distress, fawning all over the big strong man who’s come to rescue me from whatever stupid situation I’ve gotten myself in.”She stops, turning to face Rosa.“I can kick the butts of at least five of my brothers.I know how to hold my own.”

Rosa’s expression doesn’t change as she crosses her arms over her chest with a sigh.“Nobody thinks you’re a damsel in distress, Amy.Growing feelings for somebody doesn’t have to be seen as a weakness.”

Brushing off her response, Amy returns to her pacing.“He came over after the debrief last night to check up on me, and we spent the rest of the evening talking and playing stupid video games that were actually really fun.And now I can’t stop thinking about how he looks at me and how my skin sort of tingles when his hand hovers near mine and I … ”

Rosa’s phone buzzes again, and without even glancing at the screen, she shoves it into the back pocket of her slacks.“Okay.Ballpark this for me.How much of a crush are we talking here?”

Amy blinks, temporarily dumbfounded.“Ballpark it?”

“Yeah.From like … DEFCON Five, to DEFCON One.What are we looking at?”

Feeling the tip of her ears begin to heat up, Amy quickly tucks her hair back on one side.She hadn’t exactly been prepared to compare these sort-of feelings towards her guard on such a scale, and after a beat she decides to just aim low.“I guess … a five?”

Rosa nods, resting her weight against the cabinet behind her.“Okay.So, I haven’t exactly read the rulebook per se, but I’m pretty sure that boning your charge is one of the no-no’s of bodyguard work."

“Boning?!Rosa, I - ”

“No, no.That wasn’t a question.”

The other side of Amy’s hairstyle is quickly tucked behind her ear as she averts her gaze to the floor, the fear of Rosa catching her eye roll high enough not to try.“Okay, so …?”

“So … I can shift some names around.Move Jake to another division.Rogers transferred a few months ago and has been asking for more responsibility.I don’t _think_ he’d be any more annoying than the other options.”

Amy’s stomach drops to her feet, and her head swivels up quickly to face Rosa.“Wait, what?”It hadn’t really occurred to her until last night that she’d come to feel incredibly safe under Jake’s guard.The thought of having to start over again with someone else - and potentially not even have Jake nearby enough to still see his smile occasionally - made her feel sick. 

“On the other hand,” Rosa continues, “If you think this might be something a little more temporary, we can keep things as they are and double down on finding this creep.At our meeting last night - before all the gala drama, obviously - we’d locked in three or four fairly solid leads.We might not be that far from getting this guy, Amy.And then once it’s all over, you two can fuck in the middle of the Oval Office for all I care.”She tilts her head to the left, frowning.“Actually, _that_ I do care about.No boning down in the Oval Office.”

Amy lets out an unladylike snort, shaking her head.“Got it, Diaz.”

The room falls quiet for a second, and Rosa’s steps drum along the area rug as she closes the space between them.“Listen, Amy.I don’t want to take anything away from you, or force you into making a decision that doesn’t gel.If you have real feelings, and you want to explore them, I’m not gonna stop you.We just need to do this carefully, so that neither of your careers suffer.”

Taking in a deep breath, Amy’s eyes shift to meet Rosa’s, noting the sincerity in her otherwise protected gaze.She’d raised several good points, just as predicted; particularly when it came to Jake’s career.As much as he drove her crazy at the beginning, he was actually a pretty amazing bodyguard, and the thought of taking that away from him - to act on feelings she’s not even sure he reciprocates - seemed like way too large a risk. 

(They could say what they wanted to about her in the press - lord knows, she’s read some interesting things on Pembroke’s blog already.She can handle it.But Jake?He deserves better.)

Swallowing a lump at the top of her throat, Amy nods, throwing on her Everything’s Fine smile.“Yeah, you’re right.This could actually turn out to be nothing, and … who knows, they might even catch this guy tomorrow and then all of this is moot.”

A fast-paced rap against the door is quickly followed by Terry’s presence, his oversized frame filling the doorframe as he glances around.“Sorry to interrupt. Terry needs the room for consultations.”From her position across from Amy, Rosa nods, waiting until he’s moved to the far end of the boardroom before leaning in closer, raising her brow.

“Okay?”

Despite knowing it’s probably a lie, Amy nods, responding with a quiet “Okay.”Crushes were one thing - potentially ruining someone’s career was entirely another; and when it comes to Jake that simply wasn’t worth the risk.And while there was definitely a part of her that still thought that Kylie’s make out idea had merit, Amy also knew that sometimes, good things take time to be great.“Let’s just catch this creep, so we can kick his ass and get life back to normal.”

Grinning, Rosa reaches out to press a semi-gentle punch into Amy’s shoulder.“My thoughts exactly.”

* * *

Amy’s mind is still slightly distracted when she steps out from the boardroom a few minutes later, a new set of classified files tucked under one arm, courtesy of Terry. 

Already thinking ahead to the statements she’ll need to make about the information within, her plan to avoid all the flat-screen TVs surrounding the personnel office (covering each angle, they stay switched on at all times; because in politics, anything can happen, anytime) fell to the wayside until it was too late for her to stop. 

Recovered CCTV footage of the night before flashes onto the screens before she can even make it to her office; the canned sounds and grainy images clashing immediately with the too-sharp teeth of fresh memories.She feels the sting of each bite as her throat begins to close up, the tightening of her chest causing her heart to pound as the need for regulated breath seems suddenly impossible to consider.That old familiar cloud of an anxiety attack begins to envelop her, and this time there was no escape in sight. 

Her office is ten more steps away, but feels like it’s in another state entirely, and with watering eyes focusing carefully on the floor, Amy begins what feels like a crawl across the carpeted hall until a steady and familiar hand wraps around her upper arm. 

Jake, appearing as if from nowhere, keeps his voice low and careful as he guides both of them towards Amy’s office, maintaining his careful grip until they’ve both passed through the threshold. 

Through the rising tides of panic Amy’s ears pick up on the steady _click_ of a locking door, and then Jake’s voice cuts through it all. 

“It’s alright, Amy.You’re here with me, and you’re safe.Everything is okay.”

Feeling her head nod through the thumping sound flooding her ears, Amy steps backwards until her legs hit the back of her couch, body dropping like an abandoned puppet into the seat without a second thought.The gripping sensation in her chest tightens again as she fights for air, and as her palms move to either side of her face she feels Jake’s warm hands wrap around each of her wrists.

“We’re going to get through this together, Amy.I need you to start breathing with me, okay?I’ll count us in.”Slowly, he breathes through his nose, holding as he counts out loud to five before releasing the breath through his mouth just as slowly.It’s a technique that is familiar to Amy, but always seems virtually impossible to do in the moment, and it takes another few tries before she’s able to mirror Jake’s actions.

“That’s it.You’re doing really well, Ames.One more time, okay?”

Having finally broken through this morning’s overcast sky, sunlight peers through the slats on the window to Amy’s left, the divided light highlighting stray dust mites as they dance before her.She focuses on the floating dots, breathing carefully along to Jake’s balanced count, and slowly the knot in her chest begins to dissipate.

He’s kneeling in front of her by the time her eyes return their focus, his gaze so cautious and caring that Amy’s chest tightens all over again - but this time, she knows it’s for an entirely different reason. 

_DEFCON Three._

The urge to lean forward ever so slightly and close the gap between them is strong, fed even more by the way Jake seemed to be beckoning her closer with his stare.But all of this has to be some illusion - some fever dream haze of emotions, post anxiety attack - so even though for a split second Amy _swears_ she can feel Jake leaning in, she pulls away to rest her hands on both knees.

“Thank you, Jake.”

His answering smile is soft, the concern still obvious in his hushed tone.“Anytime, Amy.” 

He shrugs slightly before continuing, a tiny grimace pulling his mouth into a thin line.“I actually wanted to be here earlier, in case you caught something like this happened, but I’ve been caught up in so many meetings I think my mind is about ready to explode.”Shaking his head, Jake continues.“Every company considers their own intel to be classified, and nobody wants to be the first to say uncle.It drives me mad, but I think it’ll be worth it in the long run.”

Amy grins in sympathy, already feeling a sense of lightness return as she sits and listens to Jake grumble about his morning.It seemed so different and yet entirely the same, the juxtaposition between the version of Jake that stayed up with her all night, teaching her stealth moves in a computer game; and the Jake that pulled her from panic attacks and fought in any way he could for her safety … but she was thankful to know both.

His expression turns oddly nervous as she stands up from the couch, moving with still slightly shaking legs towards her desk and leaning against the hardwood edge. 

“I, uh … I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”Following her lead, he stands to stretch out his legs, turning to check if the door to her office is still closed.

“Oh?”

He nods, right hand running down the length of his tie.“Yeah.I’ve been going over the notes of the weekend team, and as the weeks have passed I can’t help but notice that you just haven’t been leaving your apartment unless you’re coming to work.”

Backing up slightly, Amy nods in admittance.Despite knowing it was a Terrible Idea, that first night at home after finding out about her stalker had been dedicated solely to learning about the uncomfortably advanced world of modern espionage (and, investing in the very best blockout curtains available).The covert actions of villains around the country had been enough to fill several binders in her mind, and as time wore on, Amy found herself devising more and more reasons to stay home whenever she wasn’t at work.

Home, after all, had a bodyguard watching from a car at the curb, with another at the cafe across the street. 

And home didn’t write creepy letters, or make her hands shake with the threat of a stranger around every corner. 

It felt ridiculous to admit it, though - even to somebody like Jake, who she’s pretty sure would definitely understand.“I mean … politics doesn’t really take the day off.And sometimes I just get so busy with the stuff I take home that it - ” she glances up, and catches the obvious disbelief in Jake’s expression.“Okay, fine.I’ve turned my home into a bunker.”She shrugs, twisting the heel of her shoe into the carpet.“Is that such a bad thing?”

Frowning, Jake bobs his head from side to side.“Not _bad_ , no.But I do think you deserve to get your time back, and remember a version of the world that doesn’t have everything neatly organised in an alphabetised binder.” 

She rolls her eyes at the last statement, knowing full well that Jake was referring to the Movie Binder he’d discovered last night.Organised by title, and cross-referenced by enjoyment ratings and critical reviews; it was both highly informative and incredibly helpful at solving the dilemma of what to watch.“Where exactly are you going with this?”

“I have an idea.And please, feel free to shoot it down if you think it’s ridiculous.Maybe it already is, but I’m just going to say it anyway.”

“Out with it, Peralta.”

He glances at her from the side at the use of his surname, but continues regardless.“Okay, so.We need to weed out this guy.He’s obviously formed some sort of attachment to you, and I think, from reading some of his emails, that he considers you to be … well, _his._ ”Pausing as Amy visibly shudders before him, Jake gives her an apologetic look before continuing.“What I’m thinking is, we need to provoke him.Push him into making some sort of rash decision, doing something stupid that exposes him but also keeps you safe.”

“And how would we …?”

“I was thinking that maybe I could hang out with you.On the weekends or whatever.And …”Jake pauses to clear his throat, all fidgeting suddenly on pause.“Pretend to be your boyfriend.In public.We’d have backup guards in civilian outfits trail us, and a steady line of comms going, just in case.”

The details, while technically important, paid no interest to Amy at that very moment, and she knits her brow before repeating - “You … you’d be my boyfriend?”

Jake nods, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.“Just for show, of course.And we don’t need to do anything full-on, just enough to make it obvious we’re together.I’m not going to make you do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, Amy - you have to know that.”Resting his weight on his heels, Jake runs one hand along the back of his neck.“I just think that if we push this dude into thinking he’s been replaced from whatever insane layout he’s set up in his mind, it might end up giving us the lead we need to take him down.”

Amy’s heart races at the very thought of Jake’s plan, her stomach doing somersaults as the idea begins to grow merit in her mind.It did make sense to try and poke the bear (a reasoning she never thought she’d make with a sound mind), and instinctively she knew that if Jake thought it was dangerous in any way, he never would have suggested it in the first place. 

Plus, there was the added bonus of ‘catching stalker = potential dating of the bodyguard’.But that was a minor detail. 

Wary of admitting how down for his plan she actually was, Amy chooses to take a leaf out of her guard’s book, waggling her eyebrows suggestively before responding.“So you want to date me, huh, Mr Agent?”

Jake’s face turns an adorably sweet shade of red, joining Amy in her triumphant giggle before shaking his head.“C’mon, Amy.I know you want all of this to be over so you can get rid of me and go back to hanging with friends, and … dating, or whatever.”He shrugs, shoving both hands into the pockets of his slacks.“And we don’t have to go through with it, or we could get some other guy on the team to step in - whatever you want.I just figured that since we were starting to become .. friends … you might appreciate a familiar face.”

The title sting like a slap to the chest, and Amy nods with her practiced smile.“Yeah.Friends.”

“Friends.”Jake repeats, his smile tightening.“So, do you want to run with my plan?See how it goes?”

Reminding her pounding heart that she wasn’t actually saying yes to a date with Jake Peralta, Amy nods, throwing out a thumbs up for good measure, and Jake grins. 

“Okay.I’ve got to go over some specs with Gomez, but Boyle is right outside.I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?Say, ten?”He grins at Amy’s responding nod, and swivels quickly on his heels.“Thank you for trusting me on this, Amy.I promise, it won’t be terrible.”

“I promise it won’t be terrible, title of your sex tape.”

Turning back towards her, Jake laughs, the sound of his glee bounding off of Amy’s office walls and landing straight in her overactive heart.Her smile, as he leaves, could light up the entire West Wing, and just like that, Amy knows she’s done for. 

_DEFCON One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing soothes a slow burn than a bit of fake-dating, amiright? 😄 Your patience will be rewarded soon, my lovelies. Thank you so much for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter! ♥️

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would _loooooove_ to hear your thoughts - comments and/or kudos are always appreciated! (and perhaps feed my heart more than a little!)


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